On The Brink
by JHandAC
Summary: After all the crap Sam has been through, and that's a lotta crap, he's had enough. Somewhere deep inside, he lost aprt of himself. Can John and Dean get him back to normal? Sam has left home, for good. To be a better hunter. Teen!Chester. Ignr insde smmry
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Nope not mine. And I don't think they would put something this dark on T.V. since my last escapade...

Un-Beta-Ed

I'm honestly sorry. I have no idea what came over me today, I just feel completly dark and... I dunno... semi-evil. ^._.^ - Rawr!

Sam is 15

Dean is 19

And heeeeeeere we go :)

Summary: After all the crap Sam has been through, and that's a lotta crap, he's had enough. Somewhere deep inside, he cracked, snapped, got _warped_. Can John and Dean get him back to normal, or is Sam meant to be this... heartless, unstoppable, emotionless thing that was no more Sam Winchester than you or I?

Sam Winchester had had the worst day of his life and he needed something; scratch that, _someone, _comforting. So, obviously, he needed Dean. His big brother who was there for everything. But... not this time.

This was how Sam's day had been:

_School had been the same as it had been all this month: terrible. A month had been one of the longest times Sam had stayed in a place in a long time, but of course luck wasn't on his side and this place happened to be full of assholes. _

_Today he was beaten to a bloody pulp. He'd like to be able to say, 'You should see the other guy.' but he can't. Because he would have to change that to, 'You should see the other guy_s_' As in more than one._

_Yes, Sam had managed to defend himself against two, hell throw three in there and he still had it, but when seven, _SEVEN, _of them ganged up on him in an alley behind the school, he hadn't stood a chance. Escpecially with them all being on the football team._

_So Sam had stayed in the alley for what seemed like hours afterwards, trying to still the pain coursing through his veins every time he breathed._

_When he could finally stand up he noticed the sun was setting. He needed to get home in a matter of moments, or else Dean would _freak. out. _ So Sam ran, agains the protest of at least 4 broken ribs, what seemed to be a fractures wrist, what he knew to be a slight concussion, the bruises he was sure were forming on his arms and legs and torso, and that was just the tip of the ice berg. _

_Hopefully Dean wouldn't scrutinize Sam too closely tonight._

_But when he got home, he was greeted by an old pickup in the motel parking space and a missing Impala. He allowed himself a small smile, Dean was gone and his Dad was here._

_'At least he won't care that I'm hurt.' Sam took another look at the sky, 'But he will care that I wasn't home when I was supposed to be. I don't suppose he'll listen to the truth either...'_

_Sam sighed and entered the motel room to be greeted by a, "SAM! THERE YOU ARE! I've been worried sick and what... you decided to get into a little fight! You should know better Samuel."_

_Sam flinched and closed the door, swinging his backpack off his shoulder and onto the ground. He looked up at his Dad and muttered, "I'm sorry, Sir."_

_Then, John exploded, "GODDAMMIT SAM! That's all I ever hear from you! I'm sorry this, I'm sorry that! Well, maybe you wouldn't be so sorry if you weren't such a pathetic screw-up! If you were more like your brother, maybe you would be a better hunter, hell a better _SON!_"_

_That part hit Sam deep, "You want me to be more like Dean, Dad? Really, that's what you want? WELL TOO DAMN BAD! My name is Samuel Micheal Winchester and I'm NOT Dean! So give it a fucking rest for once! Can't you at least be proud of me for me? Is that so bad too ask!"_

_Sam should have been expecting the punch that came at him, or the next one, or the next one, or even the kick after that. But he didn't. So he didn't get a chance to fight back. Especially not with his previous injuries. He dropped after the last punch and then the kick came, hitting him square in the ribs that he was sure were already broken._

_"Do NOT talk to your father like that. Not now not ever, you got that boy._

_But still, Sam managed to get up, look his Da- no look _John _right in the eye and say, "You may be my father, but you have _never _been my dad. And to whom it may concern; definatly not you but, your son, Sam, was held down today in an alley in the back of the school while 7 football player beat the living shit out of him. Broken ribs, concussion, fractured wrist, and that's just the begining. So _thank you _John, for most likely breaking apart my ribs. Thank you."_

_John's face paled and he started at his son's torso in horror, but soon the famous Winchester mask recomposed across his face and he left the room in a hurry._

So as Dean entered the room, Sam just really needed a hug, hell a hand on the shoulder would work. Sam was sitting on Dean and his bed and as Dean came he looked at him.

But Dean's face contained nothing but fury, "How the hell could you say those things to Dad, Sam? Do you not know what he's done for us, how much he's sacrificed?"

"_He _hasn't sacrificed _anything _but our childhood! He yelled at me for being beat to a bloody pulp, then he did it himself! What kinda parent does that!"

Dean walked over to the bed, pulled Sam up by his shirt collor and said straight to his face, "The parent wouldn't so that unless the kid was a weak, pathetic kid who still _crys_ over a broken leg. The parent wouldn't do that unless the kid _deserved _it, unless he was asking for it. So Sam, in my eyes, you're a snot-nosed kid brother who can't stay out of trouble and is nothing but a nuisance and screw-up. You're lucky Dad didn't kick you out. Now I'm taking a shower, and when I get back out you better be asleep. On the floor. You are NOT sleeping in my bed tonight."

AAAAAAAAA

SAM'S P.O.V

AAAAAAAAA

I stood there stunned as Dean walked into the bathroom. So I was weak? Pathetic? I cry too much?

So maybe...

I could just leave...

Train myself...

Be the perfect soldier...

Come back one day when I'm good...

When I'm worth something...

When I don't screw up, maybe?

Yes.

I'll do that.

I'll do that _NOW!_

I grabbed a pen and wrote a note:

_Dean and John,_

_I have left. I might not come back. But if I do come back, rest assured I will no longer be me. I will be a hunter. I will not make mistakes. I will not cry. I will not be nuisance. I will be good. I will be a soldier. Just like you Dean. I will try and make you proud John. But if something happens to me, don't come. Forget about me until I come back, if I do. Hopefully I will. If not, please know that I will have died fighting against evil. For if I can't come back, I will die trying to be good enough._

_Samuel M. Winchester_

I quickly signed it and then grabbed my duffel bag and ran out the door. I knew Dean would be out of the shower momentarily and I barely had any time at all. So, I took off running. Once more my body protested. But I ignored it.

To be the perfect hunter, you must be imperious to pain if it does get inflicted on you. So I will ignore the ache of my ribs, the strain of my muscles, the pain in my entire body.

I will ignore it until it leaves. Just as I will ignore my heart, my emotions. A hunter is someone who is strong. Emotions and a heart, they are weaknesses. I will become merciless. I will leave behind my heart of gold. I will leave it with Dean.

But a part of me yearns to have it back. A part of me screams that I am not a hunter, I am a person. But I need to be a hunter. I need to do this. For Dean, for me, for John. So I can kill evil; so I can be good.

So I guess I must get started.

TBC...

How do you like it? I'm not sure if I really like it... It wasn't as dark as I said it would be... this chapi. But wait for the next one. Full of hate and gore. But don't worry! It's on an evil Hell bitch! Ta ta, c ya!


	2. Chapter 2

Continued...

Disclaimer: Nope, still waiting to recieve the rights to them in the mail though, Damn Kripke needs to hurry up *taps foot imaptiently w/ arms crossed*

Un-Beta-Ed

I don't think this one in gonna be too too dark... It just seems that it's never as dark as I intend for it to be soooo... yeah.

I was laying down in the woods, several miles from the motel. I had layed a comforter I had stowed away in my duffel, on the ground and I was out like a light in minutes. When I woke up, the sun was high in the sky.

I groaned as I pulled myself to a seated position and began to work on my injuries...

I put the same cast on my fractured wrist that I needed to wear when I got tackled by a ghost girl in that cemetary a while back.

Then I took 3 Advil's and gulped some water from one of many water bottles I had brought in my duffel.

I grabbed some of the ankel wrap that you use when you get a sprained ankel and wrapped two sets of it around my ribs as tightly as possibly. Sure it was uncomfortable, but I needed them to heal right.

Afterwards I packed up my few belongings and started out on a walk again. I emerged from the woods and was greeted by a busy highway. I would not hitch hike because I knew for a fact neither Dean nor John EVER hitchhike. So I walked with my limp and my body aching. I walked for miles and miles, ended up crossing into Colorado.

I had no idea where I was headed, but I knew for certain what I would be doing. I would be killing the first thing from Hell I laid eyes on.

I was in a small, no-name town in Colorado, at a motel called **King's Queen For Two**. It was a large name for such a small sign, I mused as I walked inside and paid for a single bed room. It was odd, I had only ever done that when I had ran away when I was a teenager (I no longer considered myself a teenager, but just the general description of hunter). But then my goal had been: Get Away, Get Away. Now my goal was to get better.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Narrator P.O.V.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

For a hunter, better was bashing something skull in, severing a monster's spinal chord, sending a demon back to hell, pouring salt and gas on a dead person's bones and lighting them on fire. That was better. Sam smiled at the memories of all the blood and gore he's endured in his short life.

The clerk had obviously been flirting with Sam as he checked into the motel, but he paid her no heed. After all, he wasn't here for a skank.

As soon as night fall approached, Sam left the motel. He walked about a block and a half before he found a car he like, a midnight blue Audi TT. Seeing as how the owner was no where in sight, Sam took the opportunity to hotwire it.

As Sam drove he though of the information he had seen on his laptop. This thing was very obviously a werewolf. Now Sam didn't want to kill a werewolf, seeing as how they were still people, but he pushed the thought into the back of his mind and determidley only thought, 'What would Dean do? What would John do? They would kill it, I'm sure of it. It is still a monster.'

So that night, Sam found the werewolf.

And shot it in the heart. But only after shooting it in the knees and the elbows. Sam seemed to gain confidence in the howls of the creature before it died. After all, it _was _just a monster.

Sam looked at the gun breifly, before emptying the rest of the clip into what was left of the beast's face. Now it was mutilated beyond recognition. But Sam still wasn't done with the job. So he dug a fresh hole in the ground, big enough for the werewolf that had morphed back into a girl. So Sam throws her in the pit and sets her on fire. He watches as she burns with grim satisfaction and then buries her.

Of course he says a prayer for her, not to mention an apology. He apolizied for killing her, for killing her _brutaly_, he apologized for not being able to have killed the werewolf that infected her so that she could live, and he prayed for her soul. He prayed with that heart of gold he still was barely hanging on to, he prayed for her to get into Heaven.

And that was the first time Sam had prayed in a long time...

aaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Dean's P.O.V.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Sam was gone and I was freaking out. Literally. Dad and I had had a fight almost as bad as his and Sam's. And all because he doesn't wanna go after him. I already found him too! I had people look into is special for me, I had to give up favors and promise other in return. And yet, Dad didn't wanna go. He didn't want Sam. And he even said he didn't want me. My only hope was that he would change his mind and come with me, or at least follow me, to Colorado to bring my baby brother, and his son, back home (The Impala) and to bring him back to _us_.

Sam must have no idea how bad I felt, how bad I _feel_. And know, he's in Colorado doing God knows what! I can only hope the little kid, Sammy, I knew... is still there with him.

Because if Sammy changed, if he was gone... then I would be too.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Dayuuum, thank you for actually thinking this amazing show belongs to me... but, alas, it doesn't... But if I had one wish, ohhh you wouldn't wanna know! ^^

UnBetaEd, Like all my work. I like to try and be original...

Sooo... where were we?

Sam's P.O.V.

I was scared, something familiar to me. But not because of the normal reasons. No, this had nothing to do with the supernatural or anything of the sort. This had to do with Dean.

I was still in town, after I had killed that werewolf. I couldn't just skip out after her death, it would be too shady. So I had decided to stick around for the rest of the week and try to blend in while I could. It was already Thursday so I would be on my way in 3 day's time. Nothing too wrong with that.

Except for the fact that while I was in town, I saw Dean. Handing out Missing Person Flyers. Of me. When I saw him, I hightailed it back to my motel and packed as fast as I could.

Damn, I guess Dad made Dean come and get me. And we all know what happens when Dad tells Dean an order. He sets out and _gets it done_.

Which translated to me having a very limited time to get out of here. I hurried out of my room, a little shimmy car-lock picker in my hand. I checked around, making sure the coast was clear. I had just hotwired another car, tryring to shake Dean off, when I heard the familiar rumble of the Impala's engine. Then... Dean pulled into the parking lot of the motel.

So, very obviously, I took off. I pushed the Box Car (You know the one I'm talking about, the Kia?) as fast as it would go, the speedometer reading 89 mph. So, with the petal to the floor and Dean on my ass having spotted me, I did what I thought I would never have the courage to do.

I sped toward the town bridge, you know the kind that was long, yet old and rickety with rotted wood on the side meant for "protecting people" from going off the edges? So when I got there, I drove the car straight off the ledge, which was about 55 feet above a vast river. I unbuckled, threw the door open, and heaved myself out of the door. I stood stockstill in midair as I had been taught too, you go through the water like an arrow this way. So as I flew deep down into the water, I pushed my legs against the bottom of the river and flew upwards like a missile.

I broke the surface, gasping for air, and then swam as stealthily as I could to shore on the opposite side of the river. I waited there, but not for long. I saw the Impala pull over on the other side of the river, having taken the old dirt road down here, and I saw Dean get out of the car with his hands on his head pulling at his short hair strands.

I watched him as he collapsed in on his knees and yelled my name, "Sam! Sammy! Sammy, please! Come back, I need you!"

Now he was sniffling and I was terrified. I was watching my hero tear himself apart. I was watching Dean cry... I heard him whimper and broke the sound bubble in his throat with a whisper yell just loud enough for me to hear, "Please Sammy, at least let me know you're okay. Please..."

I figured that me having caused all his grieve, could at least take some away. I took a pebble next to me from the shore, thank God it was a smooth sided one, and skipped it across the river where it met with Dean's boots. I watched as he picked it up, sniffled, then tucked it into his pocket. I saw him get up, right himself, then he yelled to me, "Sam, I hope you know I will _never _stop looking for you. I will keep searching, even if Dad won't. Your my brother Sammy and I love you. I needja back. So, please. Just stop this and come _home._. Come home _with me_."

I shook my head and stood up from the river, walking away backwards wanting to see Dean for just a little longer, and then I left. I walked and I walked for what seemed like ages, I was numb and hardly aware of the pain that my body should have been in. I was alone and I knew it. There was no way Dean could find me now. No way he would be looking after I refused to leave with him. So, let's just hope he'll keep his distance and we can keep this from happening again. After all, I did have to waste a perfectly good car for nothing...

aaaaaaaaaaaaa

Dean's P.O.V.

aaaaaaaaaaaaa

Sammy was right there and I let him get away. I screamed in agony, the pain of him leaving me all alone. Although, I was sure I had done much worse to him. Almost literally ripping his heart out and stomping on it. After what the poor kid's been through...

But that doesn't change the fact that I love him and I need him with me. My baby brother was all alone out there, mearly 15. But he was a Winchester.

Thus he was a finely trained, a nicely tuned, killing machine. One that wouldn't stop, the perserverance in his note very prominent. But that wasn't Sammy... Hell, that wasn't even Sam! Not even Samuel. That was a monster. One that my Dad had brought out in him. I admit it, I was apart of the problem too. But if I ever get him back to the way he was, a fluffy, scroungy, adorable, puppy-eyed little boy, I would _never _hurt him again. _**Never.**_

But, with him being lethal and all, I knew I would need help. So I called the one person I knew would help me for sure, without a doubt and without calling Dad even. After all, we all know that Pastor Jim would have done that in a heart beat. So instead I called someone I knew would never talk to Dad again in a million years, but someone who was surefire to help me and Sammy. Bobby Singer.

I picked up my phone and dialed the number I had once known as 'Unca Bobee' and waited for him to pick up.

"Bobby? Hey, it's me. Dean."


	4. Chapter 4

Dislaimer: Yah, this belongs to Mr. Eric Kripke. Otherwise known as GOD to a fangirl... But I'm not one sooooo NAH-NAH-NUH-BOO-BOO! *Blows a raspberry*, but... Sam and Dean are still yours... so... I admit defeat and give you the honor of me telling you that I don't own this and make no money from it...

A/N Sorry it's taking so long for me to post my stories and such... but I've barely been getting 8 hours of sleep... a WEEK. So... yeah. It's not like I don't have the opportunity, I just... _can't. _It's a mix of insomnia and night-terrors... Damn you Supernatural for making me stay up even later to watch re-runs online *shakes fist at the ceiling*!

Heeeeere we go!

Bobby's P.O.V.

"Dean! That you, boy?" I asked, incredulously. Whatever happened had to be damn bad for this boy to call me and not Jim first.

"Y-yeah, it is Bobby. I-I need sumthin... I need some help." Dean said shakily. God, whatever had this kid's nerves like that needed a serious ass-whooping, Bobby-style. "Yeah, 'course. Whatever you need."

"B-Bobby, it's S-Sammy!" I heard something like a stifled sob on the other end of the line and I felt my heart drop.

"GODDAMMIT! What's Ol' Johnny Winchester done to the boy now? He finally break the damn camel's back!" I asked, outraged. If something happened to Sam, I was gonna be down at whatever seedy motel they were at, tearing John a new one if not putting him in a coma!

"B-Bobby, it's not all his f-fault. I-it's m-mine too! And now... Sammy left!" My heart froze at Dean's words. I sighed dejectedly. So Sammy had finally left 'em. Another voice in my mind said, _'About damn time with the way they've been treatin' 'im." _But the real Bobby Singer voice said, "Dean, listen ta me! You tell me where ya are and I'll be there ina heartbeat!"

If Sam had left, it was gonna take one helluva search crew to find him, especially when he didn't wanna be found.

As Dean stumbled through the address of a town in Colorado and filled me in on what had happened, I was in the car and on my way there. I listened to the entire thing, though. And when we finally hung up, my mind was on instant replay of the first time I met little Sammy.

_FLASHBACK TIME!:_

_John Winchester had come to me asking for a favor. It wasn't too much to ask in his eyes, just a week baby-sittin' his two boys, one age three and the other age seven. They were both polite to a fault, but the younger was goofy and sloppy with big puppy-eyes and dimples to melt the Devil. His older brother was gruff, even at the small age of seven, and wouldn't take his eyes off of Sam._

_That night, after I had tucked both kids into bed, I was downstairs drinking a beer in the library when I heard thumping down the stairs. Naturally, being a hunter and all, I brought my gun with me and had it aimed and cocked in front of me, ready to shoot. But when I got to the stairs, I had a gun pointed at little Sammy Winchester's frightened face._

_I lowered it as fast as possible, but the damage was already done. There was a steady stream of tears dripping down the boy's face and he looked down at his toes sniffling and said, "I'm sowwree Unca Bobbee, I n'dded sum wata."_

_He shuffled his feet in his little rocket pajama's and then peered up at me through floppy bangs with his lower lip subconsiously jutting out. I swear, if I wasn't a hunter, I would've melted into a puddle of goo right there. But instead I said, "S'Okay, kid. Now go get'cher water."_

_He looked at me and nodded with his back straight as a ramrod, like a little soldier, and then walked into the kitchen. I sighed and moments later, I followed him in._

_I watched as he dragged a stool to the counter all by himself, and got a cup all by himself, and I watched as he poured it from the sink all by himself. And by the time he sat down on the stool with the cup between his swinging legs, I thought I was in the clear. So I walked back into the library. _

_But when I heard a crash and a stifled cry of pain moments later, I knew I had been wrong. So I hurried back into the kitchen to be greeted by a small whimpering Sammy who had faceplanted onto the floor with a glass cup in front of his face. He pushed himself so he was leaning on the stool and he peered up at me, fresh tears and blood running down his face._

_That was when I heard Dean running down the stairs yelling, "Sammy?"_

_I hurried over to the boy and looked at the little glass fragments decorating his forhead. I turned around just in time to be greeted with a very little, very pissed, Dean Winchester._

_He stormed past me and to Sammy, taking the younger boys face in his hands, and looked him over. He turned and glared at me quickly, but then turned back to Sammy, who was now sobbing, and dusted the glass shards off of his face._

_I watched as he hushed his brother from crying, humming a tune I recognized as 'Hey Jude' and I sat there as Sammy stopped crying and told his brother to go to bed._

_Dean obliged and gave me the Glare'O'Death one more time on the way out. I looked at little Sammy, picking up the peices of glass with his bare hands, and I sighed. John had already made tiny soldiers out of his boys._

_So I walked over and helped Sammy clean up. Later, we were in my library together, after Sam told me he needed a bed time story to fall asleep. So here I was, making one up, with a little 3-year-old curled into a ball on my chest. Before his sleepy eyes closed one last time, he touched my face with one grubby, little hand and said, "I like you Unca Bobbe!" and then fell fast asleep._

_My heart warmed as I looked between Sam and his brother Dean in the bed they were sharing in the guest room. As soon as I had brought Sammy up and placed him in the bed, the two boys had instantly curled in on each other and turned into a cuddling position._

_I grinned and exited the room, needing some sleep myself._

_End Flashback:_

_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA_

_I know, you hate me. But too bad. This is a filler and you LIKE IT! Don't you? Don't be afraid yo say no XD_


	5. Chapter 5

**On The Brink 5**

**Disclaimer: Oh Mighty Norwhale, You Own All, And I Admit Defeat... I do NOT own Supernatural nor any recognizable people or publicably known symbols I.E. Pepsi.**

**A/N Yes, because I'm awesome I'm uploading this at midnight when I have a state wide Geography Bee tomorrow at CCSU, but I don't even go there or to a college yet so it's like WTF? Right? But at least I get to miss school and stuff...**

****

**Present**

Dean was at the motel, waiting. Waiting for Bobby. And his Dad. But John hadn't picked up his phone the four times Dean had tried to call. And he even rejected the call after two rings, the Winchester way of saying, 'Fuck of!'

So there Dean was, laying helplessly on the motel room of the month, while his baby brother was God knows where... his Dad had basically disowned him... AND a man who he hadn't seen in a few years that had been like a Dad to him was on his way.

Dean sighed angrily before hopping to his feet. He felt his rage build up and up until it overflowed and suddenly, he couldn't take it anymore.

He jumped over to the side of the room and started hitting the wall as hard as he could, a punch accented by a word, "What. The. Hell. Are. You. Thinking. Sammy? How. Could. You. Do. That. To. Me? I. Fucking. Love. You. You. Need. To. Come. Back!" He screamed the last one at the top of his lungs, his chest now heaving as he stopped yelling. But he just turned around and smacked the TV off of the dresser and yell, "THE HELL SAMMY? WHY CAN'T YOU JUST BE BACK ALREADY!"

Now, Dean sank to the floor, his strength from the rage depleted. His appendages felt like spaghetti and his brain felt like melted mush in a can. So Dean sat there, numbly, until Bobby barged in an hour later, saying he called a couple folks and they might have lead on Sam.

That was all Dean heard, and he kicked into action right away, asking Bobby all sorts of questions he wasn't likely to know the answers to. But Dean barrelled on anyway until he came to the most important one, "Where is Sam?"

aaaaaaaaaaaaa

**2 Days Ago**

Sam had trudged his way across another state border and crossed into Arizona. Sam was thankful for warm weather, his clothes were still wet from his plunge into the cold water back in Colorado. He was positive his cell phone was fried, he'd need to get a new one of those, and most of his clothes had probably shrunk. But he didn't mind. He was in a cozy motel, not at all seedy. Sam was proud to call it his temporary home, and even prouder to say that he was on the trail of a Wendigo. Needless to say that a Wendigo would be tough to take down on his own, but he knew he could do it with a good strategy. He had taken maybe 4 down in the past and was pretty sure he had the basics down.

So he could see no harm in trying. It wasn't like anyone would miss him. Dean was just looking for the sake of looking, that's what Sam told himself over and over... Until he started to believe it.

aaaaaaaaaaaaa

**Dean's P.O.V.**

**Present**

Bobby had said that Sammy was somewhere in Arizona, one of the less populated and native areas. There had been rumours of many people going missing from one in particular, right off of a Navajo Reservation, and that's where we were headed right now.

I was practically buzzing in my seat, anticipation killing me. I needed to see if Sam really was here, and if he wasn't, well then I would need to keep looking. Whatever it took to find him.

Me and Bobby talked to a few Native's and they said they'd seen someone fitting Sam's description head into the wood's maybe... 2 or 3 days ago. Never saw him come out.

I felt my bood run cold and I turned to look at Bobby. His face was pale, really pale. I had a feeling that Bobby had peiced together what was taking people.

"It all makes senses Dean! Missing people, Native American area, woods! It a Wendigo! We need to find Sam and now! With any hope, he's still alive and just a little munched on." Bobby said, hurrying me along to the car. I growled at the last bit and pushed him away, getting myself to the car just fine.

I had a baby brother to find now, before he became chow for something uglier than a fuckin' gnome-clown hybrid. And those are some fugly SOB'S.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaa

**1 Day Ago**

**Sam's P.O.V.**

I knew for certain I was hanging from something, my arms pulled like I was being crucified and my body having flashes of pain throughout it, like chunks of my were missing. Knowing I was hunting a Wendigo, I really didn't want to look at my body, so I did what I could and fought agains my restraints. But, to no avail. The bindings were as tight as ever, maybe more so.

And it was then I heard the footsteps, the heavy grumbling growl of the Wendigo. And it was then that I held my eyes as tightly together as possible and clenched my fists together. I had seen enough victims to know what happened next.

When it took the first bite, I screamed.

When it took the fifth, I yelped.

When it took the seventh and final, I didn't make a peep.

I was alive, but I was loosing a lot of blood and I knew it. I don't know if a Wendigo is smart or not normally, but this one was. It stopped biting me. I suppose it wants me for later then? I'd pray I would bleed out by then, but who, pray tell, would hear me?

****

**Yes, it's short. But you love it, No?**


End file.
